


Bittersweet

by KazikluBae



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, First Love, Relationship between father and son, Saloon at night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 06:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18089105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KazikluBae/pseuds/KazikluBae
Summary: Love of my life, can't you see?Bring it back, bring it backDon't take it away from meBecause you don't knowWhat it means to me- QUEEN, Love of My Life.





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> This is the type of work that began in tears and ended like my heart was a dumpster on fire. You probably have guessed this doesn't have a happy ending, because we are talking about Micah here.
> 
> I'm very grateful, from the bottom of my dark heart, to una-artwork and her insight about Micah's first love.

             It was another late evening in the saloon. His father bought a whiskey to himself and drank it in one sip, passing his lip over his mustache to drink part of the liquid that stayed there.

             -Are you listenin' boy? – he asked. His voice like thunder, rough because of the alcohol and also slow... deadly slow, just like when he gets the fatal combination of drunk and angry.

             -Yes. – Micah said, and a quick shiver ran through his limbs. He wasn't listening, of course. He had his back against the counter, looking for someone drunk enough so he could rob them blind.

             -Have some money there, boy? – Micah Bell Jr. asked.

             -No. – Micah was getting angrier with each passing moment. Lately, he was getting more irritated, especially around his father. And even the fear of the beating wasn't keeping him on his toes anymore.

             -What's that again? – his father said, his voice getting low, but his eyes burned like jewels on fire.

             -No, sir. – Micah said, not looking into his old man's eyes.

             His father kept looking at him for just a little longer, asserting dominance on who called the shots. Then, his eyes moved to the barkeeper.

             -Belle's in? – he asked.

             -No, she's with a client. – the barkeeper said, cleaning an old glass, more spit than water on that cleansing.

          Micah Bell Jr. was a scary son of a gun. It wasn't because of the way he carried himself – even if his slow steps looked like death himself wandering the earth in search of souls, no. Nor his dark clothes, and long hair, but beyond that, he was scary because of his eyes, the way he looked at people, like a mad dog.

             No sound, just raw ire.

             He had that look on his face that could make a grown man, even bigger than him, shiver and shrink upon it.

           And tonight this man, more beast than human, was looking for a female so he could find release and satisfaction in her warm flesh, in the tenderness that he could destroy.

             -You stay here, boy – the man said to the boy, and started climbing upstairs of the saloon.

             Micah sighed. There he goes, like clockwork. To Micah, somethings still remained a mystery. He knew as long as he could remember what was sex, of course, animals did it, so did his father and his friends. He even got a glimpse of a wanker at the camp, that guy just couldn't control himself.

             But, he didn't have that experience yet. He tried to do that thing where he rubs his cock, and it grew and got hard, but... besides the obvious feeling, he never quite came, not like he heard other talking about. It almost hurt himself once, and it didn't happen. Maybe something was wrong with him.

             There, in the corner, a really drunk man was getting up, probably would take a piss and Micah could rob him. Stupid fuck would never see it coming.

             The man went outside. Micah went in the same direction in that way that he saw his pa' do, really slow and silently, almost like a ghost. No one would notice a boy that night, they were having a great time, the piano playing all that songs that Micah heard a thousand times before.

             Already outside, he saw the man leaning against the wall, putting his flaccid cock out to pee, barely standing still. Micah sneaked up on him, putting his hands in his coat, trying to find anything.

             And the man noticed it.

             -What are you doin', you little shit..!

             Micah wasn't expecting the man to notice, but it happens sometimes. Sometimes plans just go south, and he had to think quickly.

             Kill or be killed is an ancient instinct, lingering in us all. And it's strongest yet to be.

             He threw himself against the man, his rage taking over him. Micah was strong enough, he could prove it, he would prove to them all. How could that man deny him a little money? Didn't his stomach felt hungry? Didn't his mouth felt thirst? He needed more than him, anyway. He was getting hungry too.

             The man tried to get a good grip of him, but, being somewhat smaller and still with all his senses still functioning, Micah Bell the Third of his name managed to dodge. With a simple movement, just like a child throwing a ball, he threw the man on the ground. Now, Micah was in charge, and he was going to enjoy it.

             He stepped on the man's face until he was sure the other was unconscious. With his body still trembling with the thrill of it, he looted the man.

             A little beast he was too. Just not big enough to have much fang of his own.

             Micah Bell the Third of his name, entered the saloon again. No one had noticed him, or the drunk man. His pa' would be proud, he was sure of it. The man he just robbed didn't have much money, just about two dollars, but it was enough for him. If he could not buy proper food, he could at least drink something.

             -I want a whiskey – Micah said, proud of himself, to the barkeeper.

             -Go home child – the barkeeper said – this ain't place for your liking.

             -I said, I want a whiskey – Micah said again, angrier, his voice shifted from low to high pitched without him controlling it, and the barkeeper laughed at him.

             -I said, go home.

             Micah, then, ashamed of his voice and angry at the fact that the man would serve his pa' but not him, made a not very smart move. He took one of the glasses that were close to him and broke it against the counter, then pointed it at the barkeeper.

             The sound of broken glass traveled above the crowd and music. People stopped and looked at them.

             -What was you sayin', old man? – Micah said.

             The barkeeper, just for a moment, felt a feeling of insecurity and moved his hand very slowly to reach the gun that laid under the counter, but Micah couldn't see it.

             Was the man going to kill him or just try to scare him? One may never know because before anything went further, a hand was on Micah's shoulder. Not his father's though.

             -It's okay Big John, he's with me. I'll take care of it now. – said a feminine voice.

             Micah looked at her, still confused. Who was she? What was she doing? He could take care of that fat fucker behind the counter.

             -Come now, you must be hungry, ain't you? – she said, massaging his shoulders.

             He didn't know if he should answer.

             -Big John, what about a plate of that delicious beans and meat that you do? Make one for him, put it on my tab, will ya?

             -What are you doin'? – Micah found his voice.

             -It seems I'm giving you food – she said – Where's your pa'?

             -He's upstairs. – Micah said.

             -Oh, I see – she said – Let's eat first.

             -There's no table – Micah was getting calmer now.

             -It's okay. Here – she said, picking up the plate of food on the counter – come with me, I have a table in my room. Come now, I won't bite.

            Micah followed her upstairs. She had brown hair – it shone against the light of the fire in the lamps – it was loose and free like she was already going to sleep. Her green dress also seemed to glean in the night, it was of a rich color of green and it must have costed a fortune.

             Could he rob her too?

             As she opened her room, a nice smell came over him, it was a sweet perfume and he couldn't remember smelling something like that before.

             -You can sit over there – she pointed to the small table by the window – What's your name?

             -Why you want to know? – he answered, going on defense mode. People knew his pa' around town and his grandpa' too.

             -Because I just bought you food, that's why. – she said – So?

             -Michael. My name is Michael. – he said, trying to sound sure.

            -Michael. Nice to meet you, my name is Rosalind. Now eat, you need it. – she said with a nice smile. She took off her shoes and seated on the bed.

             She observed Micah eating with interest. Then started to strip herself from her clothes. Micah stopped eating at that moment, mesmerized. She looked to the wall, showing her back to him.

             She took off her dress, remaining in her petticoat. She had small shoulders, her skin seemed like porcelain. He could see her back now, for she had brushed her hair to her front. A slim back, with a straight waist and a nice ass...

             -What are you looking? – she said, amused, peeking over her shoulder.

             -I ain't looking.

             -You are staring at me while you say it. – she said, getting up from the bed, her petticoat brushing her legs, giving them shape.

             -I ain't, I said it. – Micah was getting anxious, a known pain growing in his balls, but he wouldn't dare to look at it now.

             -How old are you? – she asked.

             -Fourteen – he said – But I'll be fifteen soon. – he had to say it, he didn't want to sound young.

         -I thought you was a child – she said, pointing he's erection that was getting very noticeable through his pants – but it seems like you're becoming a man.

             -Yeah, whatcha going' to do about it? – Micah said, trying to sound serious and daring, but beneath it, he was a ball of nervousness.

             Micah didn't feel shame. But, he was not completely comfortable, not entirely sure of what was happening, yet his cock wasn't so doubtful as he was. That piece of him knew all too well what it wanted, even if its owner didn't connect the dots yet.

             -Well, I don't know – she said, faking naivety – let me see it first.

             -What you up to, woman? – Micah asked, still maintaining the facade, irritated and serious.

             -Oh, you'll see... – she said, kneeling before him and opening his trousers. No one ever touched him in that place beside him, it felt strange – So, Michael, does it feel good?

             She started rubbing him. And he had to admit, it felt very good, even better than before, maybe it was because she had this way of handling him, and her hands were so soft.

             She looked beautiful in that position, he could see her brown eyes and the small freckles on her face. Suddenly she rubbed him a little faster, harder, and Micah felt his cock burn, but it was a good burn, the type that made him tilt his head back, and moan. His balls felt like... he didn't know how his balls felt, but it was amazing. It was fucking amazing. Micah felt hell and heaven all at once, and then, once he relaxed again, he looked at her and saw that he came in her breasts.

             -Look at that... and your cock's still hard as a rock. – she said, satisfied – we can't keep it that way.

             -Hey, I have no money, you can't charge me for that! – Micah said, kind of losing control of himself.

             -I know, that is just something that I do for the good lookin' ones.

             He wanted to ask why she was doing it. It couldn't be because of that crap of "good lookin'", he would not buy it.

             -I mean it woman, why you doin it? – he asked. Fully aware that it could mean she wouldn't touch him again and regretting every part of his question for it.

             -Well, if you must know... – she looked ashamed, yet he knew it was a lie too, she had no shame, she just jerked him off on the middle of the room – I really liked you... your blue eyes, your fancy blonde hair... and that temper, oh my! I just love the young and wild ones. All the things I can show them.

             He was not buying it. He simply couldn't buy it. But he wanted to keep her hands on him, so he complied. Maybe she was one of those weird people that had fetishes. And hers was the young ones.

             -Come here, you little beast – she said, getting up and inviting him to bed.

             He followed her. Micah felt his back on the bed now and how soft it was compared to the hard ground he used to sleep. Now, instead of her hands, she used her mouth and he thought he would cum again, there and then. He moaned high, surprised at how her mouth felt so soft and hot against the tip of his cock, and soon throughout his length. The movements she made were maddening Micah, it all felt so new and ravishing.

             -No, you won't cum now, not like that anyway... – she said, with a sly smile, holding the base of his cock, trying to prevent him from coming.

             She took off her petticoat and Micah basked on that body. He already saw a woman naked before, nothing was exactly new, but, maybe because of the moment, he thought that she was beautiful. The way her body moved, her small breasts and wide hips, and the way the curls on her cunt were also brown as the ones on her head.

             He wasn't going to expect much. He knew how this worked, and it was his time to try it. He had accepted the fact that she was crazy by that point, but, who cared? Not him. In one impulse, he shoved her against the bed, now he was on top of her, and that felt even better.

             -My, my... you are a rough one... – she said, smiling. She was always smiling, accepting him also.

             He was not yet the strongest of man, but he could manhandle her without a problem, and he turned her, making her stand on her fours. He knew what a cunt was, even if he never fucked one before, and he had no problem finding that entrance.

            Then, he made the move that would be his favorite until he died, he shoved himself inside of her in one single motion, what made her screech.

            -Come now, little piggy – he laughed. And shoved himself into her again.

          Each time becoming more angry and violent, it was like that place between her legs was a type of sanctuary, and there he could pour all his anger, frustration and sadness. And he hit that sanctuary like there was no tomorrow.

             Obviously, he didn't last long, he was no expert. If he pushed a little harder... maybe, he could even do it again.

          -You came inside, you rascal – she said, laughing, and her laugh was music to his ears – come another time, during the day – and she stretched like a pussycat.

             Not during the night, it was implied, for in that time she received the paying clients and she needed to pay for her food, room, and such.

             Since that day, Micah felt like he was living in some kind of dream, and each day he would come to her, she would show him something new and enticing. First, he didn't want to come often, still unsure. But by the end of it, he came every day, and Rosalind would call him her pet; her sweet.

             She would say, "come here, my pretty boy".

             And Micah, bit by bit, would fall in her charm. Fall for her.

 

             One night, at their camp, old Micah Bell Sr. looked at his grandson, and had to admit:

             -They are all like horses, you see – said to Micah Bell Jr. – If you have a stallion, and you don't let it breed, it becomes tense and angry and turns into a bad horse.

             Micah Bell Jr. could actually see it, how his son was more obedient, and was satisfied that his son wasn't rebellious anymore. The next day Micah Bell Jr. took his son to the saloon in an afternoon, he needed to teach the boy a final lesson.

             -Can you call Belle? – he asked Big John, the barkeeper.

             Soon, a beautiful woman stepped down the stairs, her brown hair made in a fine coiffure, and now using a new dress, a red dress. Her eyes gleaned by the sight of her favorite boy.

             -Gentleman, how you doin'? – she asked, coquette.

             -I came here to introduce my son to you. – he said in that way of his, rough and serious holding his hat, but now a bit of satisfaction painted the corner of his lips – Belle, this is Micah Bell.

             -Just like his father and grandfather! I see the resemblance. You boys have all the same appetite.

             -Micah, this is Belle, but you may know her by another name, like Rosalind – said his father, almost smiling.

             Something inside Micah broke in that moment. And it broke in a way that would hunt him to the end of his days.

             -I came here to pay you, as I promised. You did a fine job, for a woman that managed three generations of Bell's.

             -Stop you now. – she laughed.

         The realization sank on him. And suddenly, her laughter was a screech come directly from hell, and her face was ugly and disgusting, transformed by her treachery. Now, he hated her more than he ever hated anything.

             He felt humiliated.

             -Don't look so blue, my sweet, I truly loved showing all those things. – she said, trying to touch his face like a caress.

             Micah stepped away and waited outside the saloon. Hatred burning his insides. When his pa' found him, he already had planned every sort of torture against her.

             -You seem stupid, boy. – Micah Bell Jr. said.

             Micah Bell III didn't answer that question, he was silent and still, something had changed within the boy. Micah Bell Jr. saw it as him turning into a full grown man.

             -Thinkin' Belle was cruel? – he said, suddenly.

             -She's a whore, can't expect anything more. – Micah wouldn't admit his feelings, not to his pa'.

             Micah Bell Jr. smiled, and it was terrible. It was like his face was broken, deformed by that smile.

             -All woman are. – he said, lighting a cigarette – whatcha gonna do about it?

          Something made a click inside of Micah, like a new perspective. He actually could do something. But, he didn't talk about it, he kept it to himself. In the next dawn, he went to the saloon and entered through the back door.

            There were many people that night, drinking, laughing, fucking... He waited outside Belle's room. When the client exited, her eyes met Micah's.

             -My sugar, hi! You better? Come see me tomorrow... – she said.

             -I will pay tonight. – Micah said, no expression on his face.

             -Well, then come in... – she said, inviting him in.

             Micah closed the door, and while she went to clean herself behind the folding screen, he pushed the chair and put it against the door. No one would enter. No one would escape.

             He approached her, she was inside the bathtub.

             -Busy night? – he asked.

             -More or less... Enough to pay my bills.

             -Don't you feel insecure here? So many men, they can steal from you. – he said, sound so concerned and naive as possible.

             -Oh, you worried about me? How precious... But don't worry. Big John always comes when things get ugly. And about the money... well... I hide it in a place they would never guess.

             -Don't you say, you sneaky beauty. Where?

             -Guess...

             He rolled his eyes around, with a sly smile.

             -Your bed. – he said.

             -Oh! How did you know?! – she said.

             -I know you... that's why. – he said, getting closer to her.

             He touched her face, tucking her hair behind her ear.

             -I thought you were so mad that you would never come to see me again... – she was uncertain of what to say – Your father didn't do it to hurt you, he was just...

             -Trying to prove a point?

             -I dunno... – she said.

             -Well, doll, nothing matter now. Not anymore – he said, letting the fake happiness slid from his face.

             Before she could say something, he pushed her down the water, holding her neck really tight.

             That's when she noticed that she made a mistake trusting a Bell. She tried to move and began to kick her legs madly in the air, even trying to kick him, but to no effect. Her hands tried to hold to him, make him stop, but he didn't stop. He kept standing still.

             -Call for Big John now, you filthy thing! – he said – call for help! No one will help you now.

             She actually tried to scream, but, beneath the water, it only sounded like bobbles, and it meant she lost a lot of air from her lungs too.

             Soon, the light from her once so beautiful brown eyes vanished. She was dead. Micah felt no regret at that time. He heard someone knock on the door, surely her next customer. He got up, searched for her money beneath her mattress – it was a small fortune, she surely gave pussy like hell to accumulate such amount.

             And Micah escaped through the window, disappearing in the night. His heart broken, and more broken his spirit.


End file.
